Singed
by RedHawkeRevolver
Summary: Hawke's femininity, lost then found.


Singed

Gone. All of it gone. Hawke fell to her knees in the dirt. Her typically deft fingers were now clumsily picking at the singed and uneven remains of her once long hair. The acrid smell of her burned tresses permeated her nose and tears threatened to escape her eyes. She heard the sounds of her friends as if through water. They were celebrating their victory over the dragon. It was a hard fought victory, and they were all still alive, but as she tried to bring the sad damaged tendrils in front of her eyes for inspection she couldn't help but think she would rather not be. Immediately, she felt beyond petty and outright stupid for even thinking such a thing, but she thought it nonetheless.

Fenris was the first to notice the nearly prostrate Hawke. _Of course it would be Fenris to notice_, she thought dejectedly. She let her hands fall to her side in defeat.

He crouched down behind her and put one hand on her shoulder. "Hawke, are you injured?"

"No...no, I'm...I'm fine" she stammered. She stood and shook the ashes from her now short locks.

"You are fortunate to have not been burned," he was cut off by Varric's excited exclamation.

"Hawke! That was incredible! I can't wait to tell the story of our indomitable heroine felling a high dragon while flames licked at her head!"

Hawke cringed. Fenris noticed but, remained silent. "Actually Varric, it was Fenris who landed the killing blow." She said quietly as she searched for her cloak that had been discarded in the chaos of battle.

"Yes, but Fenris wasn't _on fire_. Grant me some poetic license with this one Hawke; it'll make for a better story." Varric wandered off to join the others on the path back to the city.

"Thank the maker!" Hawke sighed when she found her cloak, scooped it up and hid herself under the broad hood. She hung her head and walked after Varric. Fenris followed her, perplexed by this incongruous reaction to victory by the woman he had come to know better than himself.

She hung her head, and remained silent the whole way back to Kirkwall. She did not engage in any easy banter with Varric. She did not laugh at Isabella's ever ridiculous behavior. Nor did she did exchange casual words with Aveline. Much to his disappointment, she did not toss any careless flirtations or promising smiles his way. He was growing more concerned with each step, and was irritated that no one else seemed to notice.

When they arrived back in Lowtown, and she begged off joining the rest of them for celebratory drinks, Fenris was almost ready to demand she tell him what was wrong. He stood outside the Hanged Man and watched her wrap her cloak tighter around herself and pull her hood lower over her head as she slowly walked toward Hightown.

The others were filing into the tavern and Aveline called to him. "Joining us Fenris?" He did not even reply to her. He simply turned to follow Hawke. Aveline smiled to herself, "No, I thought not", she said under her breath.

It was nearly dark now and Hawke was glad to be alone in her bedroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. She had done the best she could with her mirror and shears to fix what was left of her last vanity. Over many years and starting at a very young age she had had to discard nearly every semblance of her femininity. She had traded ribbons for daggers. Silk dresses for leather armor. And more often than not, it was blood spatter that adorned her cheeks instead of rouge. The one thing she had allowed herself was her hair. It was gloriously long and black as midnight. Though she had to tie it up while fighting, she let it down every chance she could just to be able to feel like a girl again. Each time she reached up to let it loose and it would fall heavy on her shoulders and spill down her back, she would catch a glimpse of Fenris staring at her. He had seen her knee deep in darkspawn and up to her elbows in cursed spiders. He had seen her dirtied, muddied and battle weary, but when he looked at her when her hair was down she felt a womanly pride that was worth weeks of flirting. Now all that was left to see was the mud and daggers.

A knock at the door interrupted her self pity. "Really Orana, I don't need anything, please get some sleep" she yelled at what she thought to be a shut door. Instead, she saw Fenris leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes on her.

"And how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough" he replied. He had been standing there watching her trim and sigh and pick at the newly cut ends of her hair for the better part of an hour. He truly could not believe what he was seeing. To witness Hawke so affected by such a triviality as her hair was unexpected to say the least.

"I am aware of how ridiculous I am being I assure you." She said defensively.

"But why be upset at all? I have never known you to care about such superficial nonsense." He really did feel badly that she was upset, but he couldn't disguise the amusement in his voice. He was so relieved there was nothing seriously wrong with her that he was having trouble seeing things from her point of view.

"I'm just disappointed. It will pass, I promise." Hawke mustered a weak smile for him. From the moment they had met, Hawke had adopted a practice of complete honesty with Fenris. Not that she was a deceptive person by nature. Most times she was as easy to read as an open book. But she took special care with Fenris, constantly tending the embers of the hesitant trust he had given to her. So she might as well come clean.

"I suppose I just don't feel very much like a _woman_ anymore" She rolled her eyes at herself even as she spoke the words. "After a hard day of killing things and avoiding getting killed, it was nice to have one frivolity, one reminder that I had some appeal outside of my sword arm." She could hardly have felt more stupidly pathetic under his gaze.

Despite himself, Fenris continued to feel charmed amusement. _This should be easy to fix_, he thought, with a degree of male pride. He walked with purpose to where she stood, pleased at his plan to make her feel better and afford himself of an opportunity to indulge. He slowly tipped her head up to look him in the eye. He brushed his lips in a ghost of a caress against hers. He could feel her leaning into him and he smiled as he softly bit her bottom lip, and then proceeded to fully commit to a kiss that drove any lingering thoughts of hair from her mind.

When he pulled apart from her, she swayed forward a little not wanting to separate from him. He leaned in, and whispered low and deep in her ear "Feel like a woman now?"

All she could do was laugh, her melancholy long forgotten. "I'm not quite sure…I may need more convincing…"


End file.
